


The Drowned Rat Conundrum

by jonsasnow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Sansa, F/M, Modern AU, Mostly Fluff, Mutual Pining, a tiny bit of angst, dumb oblivious jon, humour maybe, jonsa, jonsa happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 11:58:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12276024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonsasnow/pseuds/jonsasnow
Summary: Jon meets Sansa one rainy afternoon right after she gets dumped by her girlfriend and he becomes acutely aware of his more than inappropriate attraction to her despite knowing she's not into guys. It only gets worse when Sansa turns out to be as fun to be around as she is beautiful. So of course that means Jon's life is officially over and he hates everything.





	The Drowned Rat Conundrum

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Of Cool Girls and Coconut Pie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11785392) by [Jeanie205](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeanie205/pseuds/Jeanie205). 



When Jon meets Sansa for the first time, she’s drenched from head to toe, wearing a large ratty hoodie and black leggings, with mascara smeared down her cheeks. As first appearances go, it’s not great, and considering she’s also sobbing uncontrollably, Jon shouldn’t find her as attractive as he does, but Sansa Stark is beautiful regardless of what condition she comes in. In fact, the drowned rat look is actually sort of cute on her, _if_ she wasn’t crying and _if_ his heart wasn’t breaking just by hearing that sound. 

It’s a universally known fact that Jon doesn’t do well around crying girls or women. He’s awkward enough as it is around them when they’re _happy_. This is uncharted territory. He grew up as an only child with a dead mother, an absentee father and a boarding school full of boys. 

But Sansa _is_ crying and she’s standing there on his front stoop looking for all the world like someone had just thrown her puppy into the middle of traffic, so he approaches slowly. 

“Um… hello?” Jon says, immediately berating himself for such a dumb opener. “Are you okay, miss? Do you need me to ring someone for you?”

Her eyes snap to his and they immediately narrow with wariness. Even though she’s the one crying in front of his house, Jon suddenly feels like he’s intruding. “Who are you?” she snaps irritably. “Do you live here? Is my brother home?” 

“Brother?” Jon repeats, just as sudden clarity strikes him like a jolt of lightning. “ _You’re_ Robb’s sister! Sansa? Or is it… Arya?” 

“It’s Sansa,” she answers, though still wary. 

Well, Jon can’t blame her. Robb is friends with Theon and he’s a creep, so he’d be wary of Robb’s friends too. But the girl is still sniffling and looking sorely in need of _something_ , so Jon raises his hand and gestures towards the door. “He should be home soon. I can make you a cup of tea while you wait?” 

Sansa gives a small nod, her expression softening slowly, and as he leads her through the house, gives her a cup of tea (with two spoons of sugar and a good dash of milk), the softness is there in her eyes and lips and it just about takes his breath away. 

God, Jon muses to himself. He’s never had such an instant reaction to someone before and he’s still too inexperienced with girls to know if that’s a good or bad thing. 

“I didn’t catch your name,” Sansa says after a moment of silence. She’s sitting on the opposite sofa from him with one of the throw blankets wrapped around her. Jon is unbelievably glad that he had thrown it into the wash only a few days prior. 

“It’s Jon,” he answers. “Jon Snow. I’m… Well, obviously I’m Robb’s housemate.” He chuckles nervously. “I uh… I also play rugby with him.” 

“Oh,” she nods, taking another sip from her mug. “I know you. Robb talks about you.” 

“Hopefully good things?” Jon hedges with a smile. 

But Sansa doesn’t hear him because she abruptly drops the mug to the coffee table and angle her entire body towards him. “Jon, you like girls, right?” 

“What?” He’s too incredulous to answer, and to his horror, his whole body begins to flush just from that question alone. 

“I mean you’re into girls, right?” Sansa asks again, a bit more forcefully this time. He nods, which gives her prompt to continue. “Then tell me, tell me _why_ girls like playing games so much. Is it because they’re incapable of committing or is it just me, you know?” Sansa runs a hand through her hair and growls. “We were together for eight months! _Eight_ months. And before that, she _knew_ I was wary about getting back into a relationship but she promised it’d be different. And then she goes and… Well, what kind of person just wakes up one day and says they’re in love with someone else? Who does that!” 

Her voice had gotten steadily higher and higher the more she told him, and while he commiserates with her heartbreak, Jon is aware of one thing and one thing only: she’s not into guys. And just like that, what unexpected and unwanted hope that had seeded itself into his mind the moment he saw her wilted and died. Then to add insult to injury, Jon is immediately wracked with guilt because here’s Robb’s sister confiding in _him_ over her girlfriend and all he’s doing is having creepy thoughts about her. 

Jon grounds his teeth and forces the thoughts away. He is _not_ a creep. He is _not_ going to get upset because one girl out of a million just happens to fancy girls as well. More power to Sansa for being so open and confident with her sexuality. Right? 

God, he thinks, he’s an asshole. 

“I… I don’t think that’s exclusive to girls,” Jon says, and immediately regrets it when she throws him a sharp look. He puts up his hands in defence. “Sorry. I just mean… there’s always going to be those people who will come into your life just to break your heart.”

She arches her eyebrow as if to say, ‘ _what are you on about?_ ’, so Jon continues, stumbling over his words like the idiot that he is. 

“What I mean is I don’t want you to… close yourself off. Because that’d be bad, a shame really, and you deserve to be happy. Really happy with someone. So I just wanted you to know not all girls will break your heart. That’s it.”

Sansa stares at him for a beat before she starts chuckling. “You’re really bad at this, you know that, right?” 

He rubs his hands over his face and sighs. “I’ve never had to do this before!” he grouses. “Most of the time when one of the lads is going through a breakup, I just take him to the pub and we get pissed.” 

“So let’s go.” 

Jon drops his hands, and this time, _he_ stares at her for a long second. “What?” 

“To the pub,” Sansa says, as she stands up. “Let’s go right now.” 

“Don’t you want to wait for your brother?” Jon asks hesitantly, though he stands up as well, realising he’s probably going to be unable to deny this girl anything. 

Sansa rolls her eyes. “Honestly, he’s worse than you. I don’t know _what_ I was thinking coming to him.” She chuckles again. “I guess I just thought he might be able to help because he knows Margaery as well, but he’d probably muck it up and I’d just feel worse.”

“Right…” Jon contemplates what he’s about to suggest, but then he decides it’s not about him today, it’s about her. “Pub then?” 

Somehow in the months since helping Robb’s little sister drown her heartbreak in tequila, Sansa had become a permanent fixture in his life. She’s always at the house, either to pester Robb into doing something, or she’s in his room quietly studying or watching a film with him. And in that time, Jon finds that Sansa is smart, her wit as sharp as a knife, and she’s also compassionate, warm and loving, with heart far too big for her chest. He is also excruciatingly aware of how attracted he is to her and how utterly off-limits Sansa is. Even if she isn’t only into girls, she’s also Robb’s little sister and friendship or not, Robb would punch Jon in the face for even thinking about her in a way that isn’t platonic. Of course if Sansa _is_ into boys as well, Jon would happily be punched in the face for her, but she isn’t and that’s the biggest problem. He’s crushing on someone he can’t have and it’s making him feel rotten and gross when he knows she only sees him as another big brother. 

But Jon supposes he’d still rather have Sansa in his life than not, which is the only reason why he agrees to go to a Halloween party with her where her ex-girlfriend will be, so he can be there for her. In a totally platonic way. 

It has to be said though that Jon _hates_ Halloween and so he’s made zero effort in dressing up, which is the first thing Sansa comments on when she sees him. 

“You’re not even _trying_ , Jon! What the hell are you even supposed to be?” 

Robb snickers by his side, dressed as bloody Flynn Rider from Tangled. But Jon’s too busy trying _not_ to stare at Sansa’s corset-hugging dress that shows far too much cleavage to be conducive to his mental state. She’s Queen Mary Stuart from that historically inaccurate show she loves so much and there’s a red flower crown on top of her head. He’s not sure how anybody is supposed to guess what she is, but she definitely looks like a queen. Jon would certainly ride into battle for her. 

“I’m Han Solo,” Jon says with a wry smirk. “Look, I have a gun and this vest thing.” He pulls at the black vest to show her.

Sansa huffs and swats at his arm. “Pathetic. Honestly, _pathetic_.” She then looks to her brother and pretty soon the two devolve into some age-old argument over the best Disney princes that Jon immediately tunes out. 

They walk into the house party, the main foyer already filled with drunk people swaying this way and that, and the bass of some pop dance music reverberates throughout the room. Robb disappears almost as soon as they walk in, apparently to find his date, who is the Rapunzel to his Flynn tonight. And if Jon puts his hand on the small of Sansa’s back, it’s only to guide her through the throng of people towards somewhere they can breathe and maybe find some cups for their drinks. It’s totally not because she’s gorgeous and undeniably the most perfect woman he’s ever met. 

“Do you see her?” Sansa hisses to him. “I don’t see her. She’s here though. She posted on her stupid Instagram.” They find the refreshments table just fine and grab two cups to pour their vodka punch concoction. Sansa downs the first drink in record time. “Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. That’s the couple costume she has with this other girl. It was _my_ idea! Margaery doesn’t even _like_ comics.” 

“You don’t either,” Jon points out. 

It’s clearly the wrong thing to say because she punches him, _hard_ , on the shoulder. “Well, no, but that’s not the point. Are you on my side or not!” 

Jon wraps an arm around her and smiles. “I’m always on your side, Sans.” 

Her reciprocating smile is just as fond as his and he wishes more than ever that he could just tell her how he feels. But that, he knows, is a wasted effort and he should probably try harder to move on. No one needs to have their pseudo big brother perving on them. 

The night surprisingly is uneventful. Margaery does show up with her new girlfriend an hour into the party and Sansa exchanges pleasantries with them up until they walk away when she hisses to him that Margaery’s new girlfriend makes for a lousy Poison Ivy because ‘ _she’s not even a redhead, Jon; Arya says that’s blasphemy!’_

By one-thirty, Sansa is so drunk he decides to call for a cab and take her home. He’s waiting for her outside of the party when Margaery sidles up next to him with a near-passed out girlfriend in tow. 

“Jon, was it?” 

“Yeah,” he nods. He’s polite and friendly, but out of solidarity, he tries not to be _too_ friendly. 

“Does she know?” Margaery asks, a twinkle of something Jon doesn’t like in her eyes. 

He plays dumb. “Know what?” 

“That you’re in love with her.” But when Jon doesn’t immediately respond, Margaery continues, laughing. “Word of advice, if you don’t want to tell her, you might want to dial back the longing looks.” 

Before Jon has a chance to defend himself, Margaery jumps into a car with her girlfriend and their friends and disappears down the street. He’s still incapable of speaking when Sansa returns and they get into the cab in complete silence. Thankfully, Sansa is too drunk to notice and she passes out, her head resting on his shoulder, a minute into the ride back to his place. 

The next morning with much more (sober) clarity, Jon decides Margaery’s right. He can’t keep doing this to himself. Or to Sansa. She’s not into him, and no amount of pining is going to change that. He needs to get over her and to do that, he needs to put distance between them. So with a heavy heart, Jon texts her. Simple and clear. 

_Hope you’re feeling okay today. Got a few exams and courseworks to work on so gonna be busy for the next month. Will text you the all clear after._

Like he expected, Sansa does text back, but he doesn’t answer. And he knows her so well now that he can predict when she has enough free time to swing by the house and he makes sure he’s at the library when that happens. Of course Jon still sees her from time to time, but the interactions are different. They’re less intimate. She never stays the night anymore; she never just walks into his room and flops onto his bed after a bad day; or ring him in the afternoon to gush about the cute dog she saw on her run earlier. In fact, they’re practically strangers again after a month goes by of Jon actively doing his best to avoid her. He knows he’s obvious and perhaps that’s why she’s distant with him too, like she can’t quite understand what he’s doing but she’s too proud to admit she’s hurt. 

It goes on for awhile that even oblivious Robb starts to notice and that’s when it all goes goes to shit. 

They’re at rugby training. They only have one last tournament before Christmas holidays, but that’s a whole month away, so they’re just playing an easy skirmish between each other. Robb’s on the opposite team and when the whistle blows and the rugby is passed to Jon, Robb’s there, sprinting and tackling him to the ground with so much force it knocks the wind from Jon’s lungs. He lies on his back, wheezing and coughing, trying to catch his breath, as Robb stands over him with a scowl on his face. 

When Jon finally is able to speak again, he jumps to his feet and shoves Robb back. “What the _fuck_?” 

“What the fuck?” Robb repeats incredulously. “I could ask you the same thing! What the _fuck_ are you doing with my sister?” 

Jon stares, blinking rapidly, unable to process the question. “What?” 

“Why the fuck have you been avoiding her?” he asks. “And don’t give me that bullshit excuse you gave to Sansa because I _know_ you don’t have any big exams coming up.” 

He rubs a hand over his face and pointedly ignoring the stares of their teammates around them. “It’s none of your business.” 

“She’s my _sister_!” Robb shouts. “She’s always going to be my bloody business! Now tell me the truth or I swear to god I’ll kick your broody ass, Snow.”

Jon shakes his head and begins to walk off of the pitch. Robb immediately follows and shoves him again when they reach the sideline. Jon stumbles for a bit but gains his balance quickly before turning around. “Stop that.”

“Then stop being a prick and just tell me the damn truth,” Robb says. “And for fuck’s sake, have the goddamn decency of actually breaking up with my sister in person instead of just ghosting her!” 

_Wait, what?_

“I’m not dating your sister…” Jon says, but his words trail off like a question. He’s too dumbfounded by Robb’s assumption to think of anything better to say, like maybe ‘ _no, they’re not dating_ ,’ and ‘ _Sansa is into girls, you tool_.’ 

 

Robb rolls his eyes. “Oh, please. You two aren’t subtle! You’re always staring and smiling at each other and _ugh_ , sneaking off to your room. Did you think I was dumb or something?” 

“No, no,” he quickly says. “We’re just friends. It wasn’t like that!” Jon’s head is such a whirlwind, he just completely loses hold of his filter at this point. “Your sister’s not into me like that. Do I wish that she was? Sure. But I never crossed that line with her. What kind of creep do you think I am? I’m not one of those assholes that hit on lesbians just to prove my masculinity or something, alright?” 

There’s a long tense pause as Robb continues to glare at Jon before he suddenly bursts out laughing, the slapping his thigh, doubling over kind of laughter too. This only perplexes Jon more. 

“What?” 

“You’re… a… fucking idiot!” Robb exclaims between laughter. He wipes at the tears forming in his eyes. “My sister is _not_ a lesbian. She’s bi, ya moron.” 

“What!” Jon says, eyes growing wide, as his heart begins to ram loudly in his chest. “Why didn’t… why didn’t anyone tell me that!” 

“Because you never asked,” Robb points out. “So wait, you’re telling me that you’ve been pining after my sister all this time because you thought she was only into girls?” Jon nods and he laughs again. “Fucking moron.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I gathered that,” Jon groans, running a hand through his hair in frustration. 

“Uhuh,” Robb nods. And then he smiles, a devious, terrifying smile before punching Jon square in the jaw. “That was for messing with my sister’s feelings because you’re too much of an idiot to just ask. And that was also preemptive because I assume now you’re actually going to go boink my sister.”

Jon frowns and rolls his eyes. “Did you honestly say boink?”

“Just get the hell out of here!” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Without even telling his coach, Jon runs from the pitch, grabs his bag along the way and hails a cab to Sansa’s despite the fact that he has a bus pass for this very purpose, but the buses are slow and unreliable and he _needs_ to see her right now. 

Although it cuts the journey in half, it still takes him ten minutes too long to get to Sansa’s house. But he jumps from the cab and runs up the steps to pound unceremoniously on the door. It’s six in the evening on a Thursday and he so desperately hopes that Sansa is home. She could be out with her friends. When no one answers right away, Jon knocks again, louder this time. He’s about to do so for the third time when he hears movement coming from inside the house. 

The door peels open and there standing in a ratty hoodie and black leggings is easily the most beautiful person Jon has ever seen. 

“Jon, what _happened_ to your–” 

“So I’m a moron,” he cuts her off. “This isn’t anything new, really, but this time, I really, _really_ fucked up and I’m so sorry.” 

“I don’t understand,” Sansa says warily. “What happened to your face?” 

“It’s not important,” Jon waves off. “I came here to tell you that… shit, okay, I’ve never actually done this before so I’m probably going to muck it up too. But right…” He takes a deep breath. “Sansa, I’ve been mad about you from the first moment I saw you and it drove me crazy that I couldn’t have you because here’s the thing, I wrongly assumed you were only into girls. Not that you being also into boys means I can have you now. If you’re not into me, that’s fine too! And we’ll be friends. If you still want to, that is. I know I’ve been kind of a cock lately and stuff, but I’d rather be friends with you than not, okay? Shit, please just say something.” 

There was an imperceptible look on her face, and for a long while, Sansa said nothing. She just stared at him with that impenetrable mask and it was doing a number on his nerves. But finally, with relief and dread, she sighs. “You really _are_ a moron. You should’ve just _asked_ me or asked Robb or asked _anyone_.”

“I know,” he admits, bowing his head in shame. “I’m sorry.” 

“But you know what pisses me off the most?” she says. “It’s not that you just assumed my sexuality without asking, but the fact that you blew me off without ever giving me an explanation. I thought…” Sansa’s voice broke but there’s steel in her eyes so Jon doesn’t dare try to comfort her. “I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. That maybe _I_ did something wrong. I thought that maybe you found someone else, someone _better_ to be with like Margaery did.”

“Jesus, no!” Jon took her hands in his and implored her to listen. “Sansa, there isn’t anyone better than you. Trust me, I’ve looked and no one even comes close. I’m so sorry. I’m so bloody sorry I ever made you doubt yourself. But you have to know you’re the best thing to happen to anyone. You’re… I mean you’re _Sansa Stark_. You’re… everything.” 

A faint smile pulls at her lips and Sansa’s cheeks flush pink. “For someone who’s not so great with words, you did quite well there, Jon.” 

“Does that mean you forgive me?” he braves with a smile of his own.

Sansa shakes her head. “Not even close.” But before he even has a chance to feel heartbroken, she throws her arms around his neck. “But now you can make it up to me whenever you want.”

Jon laughs as he wraps his arms around her waist. “Oh, trust me, I won’t ever stop.” And without any further prompting, Jon dips head so he can fully kiss her the way he’s wanted to four months ago. 

It’s too early to say those three little words, but the minute his lips press against hers, Jon knows he’s gone. Completely and utterly gone for this girl. And frankly, he doesn’t care one bit. Sansa is his perfect little drowned rat and he’s not letting her go. 


End file.
